


Don't Tell The Groom

by Spoon888



Series: Twitter Warm Up Prompt Fills [20]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, But He Does Know He's A Husband, Crack Treated Seriously, Cultural Differences, Enemies To Enemies Who Kiss, He Just Doesn't Know He's A Husband, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Megatron Is An Okay Husband, Mild Assassination Attempts, Off Screen Violence, Or Inconvenience If You're Megatron, Soundwave Doesn't Deserve Living With This, Starscream Is A Bad Husband, Starscream being Starscream, Unwanted Suggestion Boxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Rather than waste time tricking Megatron into conjunxing him, Starscream sets out to prove he already has.Thanks to the relative obscurity of the Vosian Conjunx Ritus Megatron doesn't catch on until it's too late. Too late to sign a prenup, that is.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Series: Twitter Warm Up Prompt Fills [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719604
Comments: 26
Kudos: 224





	Don't Tell The Groom

**Author's Note:**

> So the conjunx ritus are the Act of Intimacy, Act of Disclosure, Act of Proffrence, and Act of Devotion. 
> 
> They're not very Decepticon-y, and I thought maybe other cultures across Cybertron might value different expressions of 'love'? That maybe the rites could be up for interpretation? After all, no two marriages are exactly alike.

Megatron should have seen it coming. Perhaps not specifically the entrapment of a marriage but certainly the evolution of an entirely new kind of scheme. 

Starscream had been trying to kill him for so many years now that their little game had turned into something of a predictable pattern, so he didn't really notice when they began to lack their usual pizazz. The bizarre yet inventive plots involving monsters and clones and super weapons degraded into simple poisonings and stabbings so naturally that he didn't see them for what they were; Starscream going through the motions. Starscream keeping him off his guard by keeping him _on_ his guard.

He should have known. He should have _known_. There was no grandiosity in slitting your rival's throat while they slept. Starscream wanted him to suffer, long and hard, to lose his dignity before he lost his life and to do both publicly, so he could place a foot upon his greying back and use him as a literal pedestal for his own ascent to power. 

He should have _known_ Starscream hadn't been trying to kill him for some time now. 

But it was hard to see past that veil, no more so than on the evening he stepped out of the wash-rack dripping wet, running a drying cloth over his face- only for a knife-wielding seeker to come flying out of the billowing steam at him, trying to plunge twelve-inches of jagged steel into his gut. 

Starscream missed the vulnerable armour-seam but the force he put into the swing allowed the tip of the blade to dent Megatron's thick plating anyway. Starscream's other hand came up to grab him about the throat. 

" _Ack_ -!" Megatron's pede slipped in a puddle and he fell back against the tiled wall with the thunk, loosening the tiles. Starscream drew the knife back to try again and Megatron flung the drying cloth away to catch his arm in time, knocking the other hand away from his throat. 

Starscream's slender wrist snapped easily under pressure, knife slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. Megatron kicked it away with his pede before swinging Starscream around and slamming his back against the wall, pinning him there with an arm across his collar, knocking the breath from him. 

Megatron felt a drip of water fall from the end of his nose, glaring at the seeker with nostrils flaring in rage.

Starscream sucked in air raggedly, wincing but unrepentant. "You- dented- my knife-!"

"Your _knife_!?" Megatron snarled an inch from his nose. Starscream veered back with a sneer. "You tried to kill me in a wash-rack? You have less honour by the day-!" 

"Stop squeezing my wrist, it's already broken." 

"Consider it a mercy I didn't rip it off." 

Starscream's lips curled at the corners, "Oh," he purred salaciously. "I do." 

Megatron looked him up and down, disgust roiling in his tanks. He stepped back, grabbing Starscream by the turbine and thrusting him towards the exit. "Get out of my sight." 

Starscream stumbled the first few steps before righting himself with a self-important sniff. "You didn't lock the door. One would think you wanted an ambush, all vulnerable and _wet_ -" 

"Out!" Megatron snatched up the discarded cloth, screwed it into a ball, and launched it at the seeker. Starscream ducked and cackled, but he was gone before Megatron could chase him out. 

Next time, he thought to himself sullenly, he would permanently _remove_ any hand the seeker raised to him. 

But it was soon apparent he needn't have bothered himself thinking up inventive ways to tame his least favourite lieutenant. The attempted disembowelment in the steam filled wash-rack was a turning point of sorts. Starscream returned from the medbay that evening, with his wrist strapped to aid self-repair and testing his leader's near endless patience in offering the simpering sort of 'apology' he knew Megatron didn't care for, the sort that ended in an exaggerated Vosian-style of bow and ...his thanks. 

"Thanks?" Megatron snorted violently, optics snapping to the seeker. "For what? Sparing your miserable life for the hundredth time?" 

Starscream was still bent in half, optics big as they looked up at him. "Exactly that, my Mighty _Merciful_ Megatron." 

"Have his head looked at," Megatron muttered at Soundwave through the corner of his mouth as they watched Starscream swan from the room. "I must have knocked something loose..." 

Medical evaluation confirmed that Starscream's head was fine, which just made his choices during the penultimate minutes of their next raid even more questionable. 

It was an unwritten rule among his troops that hauling energon took priority over carrying home injured comrades. Autobots didn't execute prisoners of war- or at least, they didn't do it right under Prime's nose- so leaving a damaged Decepticon behind was well worth any penalty Megatron had to pay to get them back, especially when they were returned to him in such exemplary condition thanks to extravagant Autobot repair work. 

The two exceptions to the rule were himself -for obvious reasons- and Soundwave, due to the nature and extent of the information his Third In Command held. Starscream was an exception to _that_ rule exception because he was so uncooperative and vile the Autobots never held him long enough to get any information of use out of him anyway. And there was the added bonus of him being absent from Megatron's command meetings for a few days. 

His spirits almost lifted when the report came over the comm channels. It appeared Starscream had diverted from his course and landed in the centre of the freeway to take parting shots at some of the fleeing humans, seemingly forgetting that traffic on this planet came from _two separate_ directions as he was quickly driven into the back of by a Peterbilt truck. 

And no, it hadn't been Prime, but some fleshling hauler who had allegedly been too distracted preparing themselves a snack to spot the twenty metric tonnes of Cybertronian stood right in front of him. 

Prime only appeared later, aiding his superior strength to help lift the heavy machinery off a rightfully mortified Starscream and take him into custody. 

"What's his status?" Megatron muttered, scrolling through the fuel inventory report. 

"In custody." Soundwave droned. 

"I know that!" Megatron snapped, "I meant what condition is he in?" 

Soundwave's visor was a blank, unreadable canvas. "Surveillance indicates Starscream's injuries are minor. With the exception of large bruising to his ego." 

Good, Megatron thought, on both fronts. Out loud he rolled his optics and said, "Don't start making jokes, Soundwave. I have enough clowns to deal with as is." 

Soundwave stared at him in heavy, offended silence. 

* * *

  
He left securing Starscream's return to Soundwave, trusting that his Third's practicality and impartiality would ensure the trade was fair. Prime often pushed for a higher ransom for command staff, but he was easily bartered down within a day or two. Megatron couldn't imagine what sort of behaviour the Autobots had to put up with from the seeker, but taking into account how Starscream acted among his own, Megatron decided he didn't want to know. 

Starscream arrived 'home' less than half a week after his traffic collision and subsequent capture. Once Megatron had received a ping from Soundwave informing him of Starscream's return via the tower, he settled back in his throne, aware that he had just hours of peace left while Starscream stormed about the base, reacclimatising everyone to his presence and ridiculing any work done in his absence, before seeking him out for their customary post-raid bickering session. The half-week delay would have allowed Starscream extra time to fine-tune his criticism. 

So he was surprised when less than five minutes later Starscream slipped through his doors, having come straight to him. 

Megatron glanced twice in his direction, at first mistaking him for any other nameless seeker, deceived by the low droop of his wings. 

"...Starscream." 

"Miss me?" Starscream walked towards him In an arc, never approaching his throne straight on. 

"Like a flat tire," Megatron tapped his digits. "I trust the Autobots were hospitable?"

"Some more than others," Starscream muttered resentfully, hitching just one of his wings higher, until it was illuminated enough by a stray strip of light to show off the dent in it's centre. 

Megatron's hand shot out and grabbed it. Starscream hissed but didn't have much choice but to follow as Megatron brought him close to inspect the damage. It was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A fist-size concave from what was likely, obviously, a punch. Hardly life threatening. It might unbalance Starscream during flight manoeuvres, but that didn't justify the knot of irritation tightening in Megatron's chest.

"You're making it worse!" Starscream complained, scratching at his fingers to loosen his hold. 

"Did Soundwave not ensure you were repaired?" 

"I was," Starscrean managed to free himself with some inventive squirming. He stepped back, glancing at the wing in concern and tutting. Megatron's fingers had not -despite the whinging- made another dent in it. "This came after." 

"After?" Megatron felt his optic twitch. 

"A disagreement," Starscream let his wing settle back into place with a shrug. "Some unhinged Autobot that didn't mind striking a restrained prisoner." 

Megatron felt metal crumple under his fist, the armrest of his throne paying the consequences for the clenching of his fingers. "Really," he said through his teeth. "Which one?" 

Starscream studied him a moment. He didn't appear to need to rack his processor for the designation. "...Sunstreaker." 

Megatron lifted a hand, dismissing him. "Have Hook hammer it out," he ordered, "and refrain from enraging anyone else in the near future. My medics are busy enough without you constantly inciting violence." 

"I'll do my best," Starscream smiled sarcastically, his optic roll so exaggerated it was a wonder they didn't fall out of his helm. 

Megatron waited until he had cleared the room before hailing Soundwave. 

" _Yes, Lord Megatron_."

"I need all the intelligence reports you have on the Autobot named Sunstreaker." 

In an unguarded moment of overwhelming exasperation, he actually heard Soundwave sigh over the comm. " _Affirmative_." 

* * *

  
"Well, that was interesting." 

Starscream had cornered him in one of the ammunition lockers, appearing in the narrow doorway and blocking his exit with arms braced against the frame. Megatron could barge through easily, but recent 'indulgences' had left him in a rarely patient mood. 

He closed the panel on his cannon over the fusion power-cells he'd just reloaded. "And what would that be?" 

Starscream was clearly trying very hard not to grin. Megatron, despite his attempt at nonchalance, knew exactly why. "That poor little Autobot. I saw pieces of yellow armour as far as the cooling towers." 

Megatron grunted and pretended to be interested in one of the guns mounted on the wall. 

"You didn't do that for me, did you?" 

"Don't be so egocentric," Megatron warned, "You are my first lieutenant, and a slight on you is a slight on me, a slight on my entire faction-"

"But it was retribution, wasn't it?' Starscream studied his expression, searching, cringingly eager. "Wasn't it? For my suffering-"

"-One little dent is hardly suffering." 

"My emotional scars are indescribable," Starscream told him insistently, "from the psychological trauma I suffered in the attack."

"Trauma," Megatron scoffed. "The only psychological trauma suffered came from whatever _you_ said to provoke him."

"Yes, you're right. I was the instigator," Starscream tilted his head. "And you brutalised him anyway." 

"I was proving a point." 

"And what was that?" Starscream queried lightly. 

"That you are _mine_ ," Megatron reminded him darkly, "All of you. Mine to command. Mine to use. My weapon, as much as this cannon is." 

"How noble," Starscream praised, "but I do wonder where all this vengefulness was three stellar cycles ago when those same Lamborghinis tried to push Rumble through a wood chipper. Am I to guess he's not 'yours' as much as I am?" 

Megatron clenched his jaw, "What is it you want from me, Starscream?" 

"Nothing," Starscream let his arms fall from the doorframe and stepped back to give him space to pass. "Nothing I don't already have." 

Megatron watched him leave, arms folding across his chest, self conscious in ways he hadn't experienced since sparkling-hood as a bizarrely raw feeling of exposure crept over him. 

He was tempted to order another cranial exam for the seeker, but two in less than as many weeks might alert Starscrean to how unnerved he was. 

And he certainly couldn't have that. 

* * *

Someone -and Megatron would be finding out _who_ \- had installed a Suggestion Box onto the wall outside his throne room. He and Soundwave stood staring at the lopsided box welded clumsily to the bulkhead in silence. There was a large clipboard nailed up beside it -with the nail hammered straight through the middle of both the clipboard and the flimsy Earth material it was holding; paper.

Most infuriatingly of all was that several foolish Decepticons looked to have already recorded their suggestions and shoved them into the overstuffed box. 

"Skywarp." Soundwave offered. 

"It would explain the haphazard instalment," Megatron growled, looking at the bent nail protruding from the last few sheets of paper. "A prank I'll make sure he regrets. How good are you at deciphering handwriting?" 

"Adequate." 

"Good, we'll look through these 'suggestions' and punish the ungrateful perpetrators accordingly." 

Soundwave gave him a curt nod of understanding, "I shall summon Scrapper to take down the unauthorised Suggestion Bo-"

"No need," Megatron grabbed the box with both hands and ripped it off the wall using nothing but brute strength. The welding work had been better than it looked though, and the bulkhead's metal cladding came off with it. Megatron didn't pause to give Soundwave the opportunity to sigh at the damage caused by his reckless impulsiveness, stamping onwards into the throne room.

Soundwave made the perfectly reasonable suggestion that it might not be a wise for him to open the box personally, because as much as Skywarp _appeared_ to be the culprit, he could very well be working with Starscream. In which case, it could contain a bomb set to blow. 

Megatron ignored his logic and ripped it open anyway, satisfied to discover it was bomb-free, but sadly, not suggestion free. 

The suggestions ranged from the predicable ( _"please repair the leak on the ground level, it's up past my knees_ ") to the audacious ( _"TV for the Rec room! Embarrassing that the Autobots can watch TV but we can't?! Fix this_!") to the idiotic ( _"we should get a dog as a mascot"_ ). 

Megatron picked another one up, drawn to it's neat writing. "' _Exchange Starscream for Shockwave to improve Earth crew productivity_ '- did you write this?!" He glared sideways at Soundwave. 

Soundwave very pointedly did not answer. He rifled through the suggestions to find one sure to distract his leader. "Handwriting; positive match for Starscream." He handed it over. 

"' _Retire_ '," Megatron read off the note. 

He crushed it in his hand. "Bring them to me." 

Soundwave looked at the dozens of written suggestions, "Query; who-?"

"Starscream and Skywarp," Megatron snapped. Then remembered the 'dog mascot' suggestion and added, "And Thundercracker." 

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron." 

* * *

  
"Well I couldn't have written this because I don't even know how to spell 'embarrassing'!" Skywarp smugly informed Megatron ten minutes later, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I don't need a TV in the Rec because I watch my talk shows on the security consoles." 

Thundercracker's shoulders slumped down another inch. It was clear that he so dearly didn't want to be present here as he attempted to curl himself into a ball and disappear out of existence. 

"Who installed the box?" Megatron demanded. "Starscream?!"

"Megatron, when have I _ever_ shied away from offering criticism to your face?" Starscream didn't bother looking up from picking dirt out of his claws. 

He had a point there. Unfortunately for Starscream, his trine could always be replied upon to snitch on their leader. 

"I installed it." Skywarp volunteered freely, sounding proud for his involvement, "Starscream just came up with the idea." 

"I had nothing to do with this!" Thundercracker announced his innocence quickly, before Starscream could start shouting at Skywarp and drowned everyone else out. 

" _Really_ , Thundercracker? Nothing?" Megatron leant forwards in his throne. "So you have no interest in acquiring a mascot?"

Thundercracker's mouth shrank as he pressed his lips together guiltily. "...They made me put in a suggestion," he muttered sullenly. 

"We could name them Danger the Decepti-Dog," Skywarp suggested, oblivious to the trouble he was in. As usual. 

Megatron had had enough of this. 

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, report to Soundwave for disciplinary action." Megatron dismissed them with the flick of his hand. 

Thundercracker lifted a finger in protest, "I said I had nothing to do with this, _sir_." 

"Guilty by association. Thank your trine later," Megatron glared. "Now go. Or would you rather stay here with Starscream?" 

Thundercracker looked ready to risk it, if only for more time to argue his innocence. But Skywarp took him by the elbow and began steering him away, smiling at Megatron apologetically, "Yes sir, so sorry sir."

"So," Starscream drawled after they left, running his toe pede against a seam in the floor decking, avoiding his gaze. "What's it to be this time? I am grounded? I am on _scut_ duties again?"

"Both would result in your excessive complaining," Megatron exhaled, overcome with a strut-deep sense of exhaustion just at the thought of Starscream on the ground and bothering him every hour of the day instead off in the air, taking all his impulsive cruelty out on the other seekers. "Your actions were immature and unbefitting. Soundwave believes you are 'acting out'? For attention?" 

"Did he, now," Starscream tone was laced with menace. 

"I reminded him that you were not one of his reckless cassettes. Though as you can imagine, it was a difficult argument to make." 

Starscream didn't look grateful for the defensive, "How kind of you." 

"So I've chosen to believe you are simply bored. What will it take to alleviate you of this disposition?" He glanced at some of the written suggestions. "A TV? A _dog_?" 

"Don't patronise me, Megatron." Starscream muttered coldly. "And don't get clever. Punish me if you're going to. Don't turn it into one of your insipid little power-plays."

"I've no interest in punishing you. I'm in something of an indulgent mood," Megatron admitted. "A happy consequence of no one having tried to _kill_ me in my own berth for over a fortnight now." 

Starscream's optics glinted. Megatron spied him suppressing a smile. "If you're so indulgent, might you give some serious consideration to my suggestion then?" 

Megatron's mood dropped like a stone. "Retirement?" He snapped. 

"No, the other one," Starscream ascended the platform his throne sat upon and brushed Megatron's hand away from the stack of crumpled suggestions. He leafed through them until he came upon the one he was looking for, handing it to Megatron. 

Megatron turned it over in his hand. _Additional off-shifts to concentrate on scientific endeavours._

Megatron rubbed the paper between his digits thoughtfully. Starscream had become very still at his side, standing close enough to the throne he was almost leaning over him. Megatron half expected him to move in further with anticipation, but he had self restraint enough to remain in place, stoic. 

"Special treatment, Starscream?" He drawled. "This isn't like you." 

Starscream stepped away smartly, turning his face up so Megatron couldn't read him, "I wouldn't expect you to understand-"

"I didn't say 'no'." 

A pause. Starscream dropped his gaze back to him. "You're saying 'yes'?" 

"So long as none of these 'scientific endeavours' of yours involve plots to oust me," he levelled a firm look at the seeker. "...we'll see how it goes." 

Starscream dipped his helm in thanks, filled with so much nervous energy his wings quivered at the tips. Megatron's optics were drawn to them. 

"And Starscream?" he called to the seeker before he could go. 

Starscream looked over his shoulder, optics full and clear. Megatron swallowed before continuing. "Don't expect any more of these little indulgences," he warned. 

Starscream swung around the door frame, almost playfully, "I won't. One is more than enough." 

* * *

  
Megatron had banked an educational four-million years of Starscream-related fumbles. He had been betrayed, insulted, disappointed, and hurt in every which way imaginable by the spite-filled cretin, but thus far, he had yet to be ignored by him. 

It was worse. Or at least, it felt worse. Because there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

He was perfectly capable of retribution, of defending himself, of handing out appropriate (and often inappropriate) reprimands. But how could he tackle such a passive action? Did have any right to? 

Council from Soundwave was less than useless. His Third in Command had mistaken Starscream's latest ploy and obvious _snub_ as a display of 'good' behaviour, had advised him that it was something to saviour while it lasted. Perhaps something to even encourage. 

The idea filled Megatron was cold dread. 

"He barely contributed to the last tactical briefing." Megatron sat with his fist pressed to his mouth, close to relapsing into the juvenile habit of gnawing on the ends of his digits in distraction. "He just sat and ...took _notes_." 

Soundwave nodded. "Good." 

"Good!?" Megatron's hackles rose. "He's shirking his responsibilities-!"

"Starscream; has no jurisdiction over Combaticon ground offences," Soundwave reminded him. 

Oh. It seemed Megatron had grown so accustomed to Starscream inserting himself into situations that did not concern him, he had forgotten his Air Commander's only true responsibility was the running of the air corps.

"Ah," he said, and began racking his processor for another argument as to why Starscream's good behaviour was actually a petty attack against his sanity with minimal risk of Soundwave thinking he'd already lost it. His sanity- that is. 

None were forthcoming. 

"Where is he?" He demanded, standing abruptly and marching out the doors. 

Soundwave trailed after him at a reluctant pace. "Deck two. Second workroom." 

Megatron had taken off too quickly and was already marching purposefully in the opposite direction. Soundwave's delayed response meant he was forced into an abrupt heel-turn and made to look foolish. He knocked shoulders with his Third In Command as he passed to show his displeasure. 

"You are testing my patience," he hissed venomously. 

Unlike the majority of his rowdy comrades, Soundwave said nothing, staring after his leader, eerily tense. Either he was probing at Megatron's mind or at least wanted him to _think_ he was. Megatron flapped a hand through the air between them, half convinced he could wave away the invisible psychic tendrils like a bothersome fly. 

A small mercy in further alienating his only ally meant he was free to confront Starscream alone. He traipsed down the rickety service staircase (the elevator was broken), gingerly stepping over the missing steps and avoiding the rusted hand-railings to reach the neglected lower decks. Starscream did the majority of his skulking down here, beyond the sight of prying optics. Few who we not seekers braved that staircase. 

With the hasty refurbishment of their warship into a stationary base, areas of their underwater home had begun to sink into the seabed- by an estimated inch a day. Scrapper -a typical construction worker- reassured him repeatedly that it was on already his endless To Do list, but at present it wasn't a priority. The foundations were now tipping at a fifteen degree angle. Megatron stepped off the staircase and stumbled sideways into the opposite bulkhead, gyros unprepared to deal with the sudden slope. 

Not a priority _indeed_. Grumbling, Megatron made a mental note to add Scrapper to _his_ To Do list 

He steadied himself against the bulkhead to reach Starscream's workroom, pulling himself up into the doorway with his fists around the frame.

The floor of the workroom itself was level though -likely Starscream's doing- and Megatron overbalanced _again_ stepping inside, stumbling too far forwards and ruining the menacing entrance he had planned to make. He knocked into a cabinet full of red-labelled jars -warning of their corrosive contents. Megatron hastily steadied them before any could fall out.

"Squishies have a phrase to describe mechs like you," Starscream commented quietly from somewhere behind him. "'Bull in a china shop'". 

His words conjured up the image of a great, fierce, horned beast in Megatron's processor. He turned swiftly, lip curled in a snarl, "I-!"

He stopped. Starscream was stood staring at him from a full workstation, hidden beneath comedically big safety goggles, thick and clumsy looking fabric gloves, and a hideous tarp-apron, all designed to protect his precious armour from the chemicals he was working with. It was a wholly unattractive look. Ridiculous, even. 

When he didn't answer Starscream planted his gloved hands on his hips with a crinkle of the tarp, optics magnified to huge, blurry orbs behind the goggles. Megatron's spark jumped at the strangeness of it. 

It was ...endearing. It shouldn't have been. Starscream was _not_ endearing, and there was no sensible appeal to witnessing him in such state-

Goggles were shoved roughly to Starscream's forehead, revealing narrowed optics. "What are you standing there looking so constipated for?" He demanded. "Did you spill something?" 

"No, I did not!" Megatron said hotly, unable to tear his optics away from the tarp clinging to Starscream's chassis over the extended swell of his cockpit canopy. He blinked sharply, shaking his head. "I've come to investigate what was so important you thought you could shirk your duties?" 

Starscream kept the goggles off just long enough to roll his optic at him, pulling them down again with a scoff. "You granted me these off-shifts. Your brain module is deteriorating faster than your files predicted." 

"You're taking liberties," Megatron growled. Then blinked when the offhanded insult computed, "You've been in my medical files?!"

"As is my right," Starscream lifted a vial of bright orange fluid to the light, swirling it. "I have to be prepared." 

"For what?" Megatron navigated the chemical covered furniture to reach the little chemist. "My inevitable demise?" 

"Is retirement such a foreign concept you're assuming your leadership will only end with death?" Starscream lowered the vial to stare at him. "Humans have such short lifespans they abandon _their_ goals and ambitions after just over half a century. They go on exotic vacations, take up sedate, comforting little hobbies-" Starscream paused, setting the glass down with a little clink. "-upgrade to younger, more virile models of spouse..." 

"Humans that do not _lead_ retire," Megatron corrected. "Kings, Emperors -their reigns _only_ end in death. Inconsequential professionals such as accountants, doctors, _air commanders_ -" he stared pointedly. "- _they_ are free to go off and holiday, to marry, to spawn their little devils and then die happy, useless, and _forgotten_ after a pointless little existence." 

Starscream's goggles diminished the intensity of what might have been terrifying glower. 

"Philosophers have written that the closest a mech can come to immortality is their spark living on in their young," he commented, which wasn't something Megatron had expected him to say. 

"Yes, but it wouldn't be _my_ spark living on, would it?" 

Starscream didn't answer. Megatron watched his steady hands lift and pour a green chemical into the orange. It fizzed, sparkled, and turned pink. 

"What is that?" 

"Artificial fuel," Starscream extended it to him. "Care to try?" 

"And choke on my own melted tongue?" 

"I'm not trying to kill you." Starscream set the 'fuel' down again. 

"And you expect me to believe you?" 

"You no longer need to die for me to take command," Starscream smiled neatly. "In fact, it would be easier for me if you didn't." 

"You've been inhaling these fumes too long if you think I'd ever step down and _give_ you the throne," Megatron snarled. "I'd sooner hand over the fleet to the cat!"

"Ravage?" Starscream's nose wrinkled. "Not Soundwave?" 

Megatron refrained from airing how fragging infuriating his Third In Command had been these last few weeks. They needed to show a united front against Starscream. It wouldn't do to let the cracks in their working partnership show -even though after four million years even the best of friends would tire of each other's antics.

He held his head high, "Soundwave does not have the temperament for leadership. Ravage would make a fine commander." 

Starscream glared, "Between _licking_ himself, sure." 

Megatron's mouth tightened. 

"You're hardly any better with your _preening_ ," he thundered, leaning in smoothly but swiftly to menace Starscream from across the wide workstation. "You are currently on a rare but much needed streak of good behaviour, and _I_ am on the cusp on learning to tolerate you again. Do not throw it all away on some bolt-headed plot to incapacitate me." 

Unbothered by his great, looming shadow, Starscream had began setting everything aside, carefully bottling and sealing away the chemicals and slipping the vials back into their cradles. "I'm not plotting anything. I don't need to. I can wait." 

"Wait for what?" Megatron tensed at the cryptic response. Starscream's threats rarely kept him up at night, but it was never wise to take them lightly. 

"My turn," the goggles were pulled off his helm with a snap. He set them aside, intricately shaped optics flicked up, glinting mischievously. "Because at some point in the not-so-distant future we'll bump into Autobots, and with the Autobots will be Prime. And I imagine he'll do something utterly unacceptable to you, like _breathe_ in your general direction, and you'll work yourself into such a rage that you ignore all tactical sense and charge at him like a lunatic and take yet _another_ axe to the face, or chest, or, should Prime choose to swing _low_ -"

Megatron cut him off with a slam of his fist against the workstation top. The vials shuddered precariously. Starscream's optics darted between them and his seething leader, unsure which was the bigger danger. 

"That's enough," he warned dangerously, lifting his fist out of the dent it had made. "I'm sure you spend many an hour fantasying over my suffering in some way or another, but my deactivation at Prime's hand is unlikely to earn _you_ the throne. Many vie for it, and unless you can kill me yourself, you're unlikely to make a more successful bid than the likes of Shockwave. Or even Motormaster. But you already know that, don't you?"

He smirked at Starscream's subtle pout. "Who else has better understanding of inheritance law than you, little Prince?" 

"No one," Starscream agreed. Despite the pout, he wasn't looking particularly put off by his speech. He pulled the gloves off his hands, one by one, picking a piece of fluff from a claw. "Certainly not you. Or else you would know that I do have a higher claim to your title than anyone else here, whether they kill you or not."

Megatron's brow creased heavily, "You have no claim." 

"I'm your conjunx," Starscream said simply, casually, calmly, tarp crinkling again as he reached behind to untie it. "I have the only claim that matters. Should anything happen to you, it'll _all_ come to me." 

Megatron blinked, optical filters resetting. His audio feed was crackling static until he took a sudden breath. "...Who's conjunx?"

A single, elegant brow lifted into a perfect arc, "Yours."

"I am _not_ conjunxed," Megatron shook his helm firmly, denying it slowly though, just in case- just in case he had taken a blow to the head at some point and lost a massive chunk of his own memory. "I have _never_ taken a conjunx. I haven't so much as had a lover in-"

He stopped abruptly, realising he was revealing too much. But Starscream didn't seem to care. 

"You've performed all the rites, many times over," Starscream had the nerve to sound impatient with Megatron's denial at this imaginary union. "To say we're not conjunxed would be to spit on fifty-million years of tradition-!"

"So _this_ is your newest plot?" Megatron thrust a finger at him furiously, "Inventing some farce of a marriage?" 

"We _are_ married!" Starscream protested gleefully, "Even before _I_ realised we were. But it was right there, right in front of me! Plain as day! You _chose me_ and you didn't even realise it, you great bumbling buffoon! You're stuck with me!"

"How can someone be conjuxed if they don't even know it?!" Megatron thundered. "Nothing between us resembles anything even remotely like a marriage! You try to _kill_ me-!"

"And you _forgive me_ for it!" Starscream exclaimed, his tarp apron fluttering in front of his chassis as he gestured. "Your 'Acts of Mercy' have been so numerous, to any seeker watching, you've courted me for years-"

"'Act of Mercy'- there _is no_ Act of Mercy! The rites are- they're-" he frantically searched his processor for them. "Devotion!" He exclaimed, "proffrence, intimacy, and disclosure!" He shouted victoriously, "None of which any sane mech would bestow on you!" 

Starscream pulled a revolted face, "Those modernised, wishy-washy Iaconian _jokes_ are not the traditional rites."

"They are the _only_ rites!"

"I'm not Iaconian and neither are you. Tarn has never had any ritus that I could find mention of, but Vos has firm, unbreakable traditions that follow the true rites. The old ones. Written deep into our coding from long before we even knew we could transform. Mercy, Vengeance, Indulgence, _Passion_ -"

Any mention of notoriously ironclad Vosian traditions turned Megatron's fuel to ice. Seekers and their backwards heritage. "Those are vices," he protested. 

"The most enduring of partnerships are built on vices, not virtues," Starscream said quietly. "I am not alone in seeing this. My trine and I have considered your actions carefully these past weeks. You forgive me. You avenge me. You indulge me. And you hate me so much you can barely stand to be in the same room as me."

"Is _that_ passion?!" Megatron snapped. "Is it?! I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole." 

"That isn't true," Starscream said confidently. "I've seen you look at me." 

"I look at _seekers_ ," Megatron denied vehemently, unashamed by his perfectly normal sexual appetites. "It's all the same to me; wings and cockpits." 

"Well not all passion is lustful," Starscream snapped, "I could hardly picture you as Tarn's most eligible bachelor back in the pits but it certainly didn't stop me from experiencing the _overwhelming_ desire to _passionately_ punch you in the face." 

"I _know_. You weren't subtle, even then," Megatron muttered under his breath. "By this logic I would be conjunxed to Prime!" 

"Prime doesn't occupy your thoughts like _I do_ ," Starscream sang. "You don't storm about looking for him when he disappears for a day or two-"

Megatron's face felt hot, "Because he is not known for hiding away for weeks at a time, thinking of nothing but plotting my death!"

"Doesn't he?" 

"It doesn't matter!" Megatron bellowed, "We are _not_ conjunxed! You have _no_ claim to the throne, to me, to any of it! And even if in some ludicrous, backwards reality where it could be true, you still wouldn't win the throne because I would _never_ retire knowing a pathetic wretch like you would run my life's work into the ground the moment I-!"

Starscream's hand came across his face with whiplike speed.

Megatron's red-hot temper licked through his frame like a live thing. He gripped the edge of the workstation and shoved it aside with a grinding scrape of steel legs against decking to get to his target. Starscream snatched up a random chemical vial and flung it at him. 

Megatron ducked. The vial smashed and hissed behind him, stinging flecks of corrosive chemicals splashed across his armour to burn his back. He looked back at the ugly hole it had melted in the bulkhead, fuel pumping ferociously. 

Starscream bared his denta and snatched up another. Megatron threw himself forwards to catch his wrist before acid was thrown in his optics, tackling Starscream into the corner. They ended up tangled in a mess of limbs; glass cracked, Starscream cried out, and Megatron felt liquid-fire drip and sizzle down the back of his hand. 

Broken glass, orange acid, and pink energon was seeping between Starscream's clenched fingers.

He had snapped the vial. Megatron released his wrist quickly, anger swept away by necessity. He grabbed a rough handful of Starscream's tarp apron and ripped it off him, snapping the ties at the back. He bundled it up and wrapped it around Starscream's damaged hand. 

"That will stop the acid getting into your main-fuel lines," he grunted, tying the impromptu dressing into a messy knot, tugging to make it tight. Starscream gasped softly. Megatron glanced at him, and found the seeker's optics focused up at him, rather than his bandaged hand. 

Starscream was ...quite close, trapped between Megatron's substantial frame and the corner of the room he had been chased into. There was a dull ache in Megatron's cheek where the slap had left four razor slim cuts in the softer derma. It throbbed with every quickening pulse of his fuel pump. 

Starscream smelt of chemicals and spilt energon and oily musky. Even as he stared up at Megatron he scowled petulantly. His pout was back with a vengeance. 

The immediate threat had passed. Megatron's battle-computer began to close down. He exhaled heavily to steady his ventilations, and Starscream turned his head away with a grimace. 

Megatron nudged the underside of Starscream's chin with a finger. "You started that," he reminded him. 

"You certainly finished it." 

"No, I didn't." Megatron leaned in closer, until his nose was millimetres from Starscream's unhappily crinkled one. "You _know_ when I finish something." 

Starscream's mouth quirked at the corner and he moved in a little, closing the distance between them. 

Megatron went to flinch at the unexpected move -but no, he didn't fold to Starscream. He held his ground, glaring darkly when Starscream's upturned nose nudged his. Warm breath fluttered over his lips. He kept them pressed firmly together, teeth clenched behind them as his fuel pump sped up, engine thrumming so heavily there no doubt that Starscream could feel the vibrations. That he would be _enjoying_ them, too. 

"Don't do it," he warned, refusing to move away. 

"Don't do what?" Starscream asked softly, innocently, optics big and bright and moving playfully between Megatron's mouth and his own smouldering optics. 

"You know what," Megatron muttered, hardly daring to move his mouth. 

Starscream met his glare challengingly, mouth grazing his ever so softly, the tiniest tickle of soft derma brushing. He didn't kiss him though. Megatron's cables and struts were stiff and tense as he endured the torment, holding himself rigid and still. Starscream nuzzled their noses together again, exhaling softly. His hand found Megatron's shoulder and rested there, neither pushing him away or pulling him in. 

"I'm not going to be tempted," Megatron warned him. 

Starscream smiled. 

His mouth drew away just a fraction, and Megatron's spark somersaulted at the sudden withdraw. He stupidly, _naively_ followed, falling into Starscream's trap so effortlessly and thoroughly that he forget he wasn't supposed to be kissing the conniving seeker until a tongue swept past his lips and sparks zapped through his mouth. But by then he was enjoying himself far too much to just tear away. 

He made a mournful noise into the kiss, hands sliding down Starscream's sharp frame to take his waist. Starscream swayed into him with a pleased hum, racking his claws down the back of Megatron's neck and sending electrified tingles down his backstrut. 

Starscream broke the kiss to breathe, fisting the back of Megatron's helmet to tug his head to the side and hiss raggedly against his cheek, "You're _mine_ now."

Alarm bells broke through Megatron's heady daze. He tore himself from Starsceram's arms and fell backwards, knocking into the workstation he had earlier shoved out of place. The vials and beakers fell and smashed and mixed together in a cacophony of sizzling chaos until a fire roared to sudden life. 

Starscream squawked something panicky, untangling the tarp from his hand to suffocate the flames as smoke filled the small workroom. Already struggling to take in air and disorientated by so many _things_ , Megatron fled the fire and the seeker-

-and completely forgetting the fifteen degree tilt on the floor in the corridor outside, he stumbled, overbalanced, and ran face first into the bulkhead. 

* * *

  
When he woke next it was in the repair bay, staring through a set of cracked optics and feeling rather more flat-faced than he had before. He squinted in confusion at the unfocused white blur fluttering above him, his vision swaying out of focus violently enough to roll his tanks. 

When the world finally settled, he realised what it was hovering over him. Dread washed through him- a white seeker's wing. 

"Why are you in here?" He grit out, refusing to lift his aching head just to look at the hateful seeker. He lisped as he spoke and realised he was missing teeth. He counted the gaps with his tongue. The bulkhead on the outside the second workstation would now likely bear an impression of his face until the end of time. 

"I'm your emergency contact," Starscream told him from somewhere left, infuriatingly polite and obviously feeling very smug indeed. "Another happy benefit of being your conjunx." 

Megatron shuttered his optics with a groan. 

"This is entrapment," he complained. 

He heard metal shift beside him and the wing overhead was suddenly closer, the insignia glaring an inch from his nose. He tensed in alarm when someone's presence closed in on his side. He felt breath waft across his face and then-

-a soft kiss to the arch of his cheek, chasing the tightness of his chest away and replacing it with a irritating sort of flutter in his tanks. He swallowed tightly. 

"Look on the positive side," Starscream was saying, soft fingers tracing circles on Megatron chest. "You no longer need to fear me. I won't be trying to kill you anymore. There's no need." 

"I have never feared you," Megatron snapped indignantly. 

Starscream's smirking face appeared above him, "Then why is your spark pulsing so fast? Or is it not _fear_ that's making you so nervous?" 

Megatron felt it pick up further. He willed it to slow. "That's a normal resting pulse rate for my mech my age," he lied. 

Starscream leaned in again, listening the faint, _thrum, thrum, thrum_ of the spark in his chamber spinning faster and faster. "Calm down, Megatron," he whispered against his audial. "Or your poor old spark is going to flicker out." 

"And that's just what you're after, isn't it?" Megatron bit back huffily, trying to save face. 

"Not quite yet," Starscream laid his hands atop Megatron's chest and draped himself over his leader's prone frame, chin pillowed on his arms. He was much heavier than he looked. Megatron muffled a wheeze of discomfort. "I'd rather not leave this open to any quibbling. It'll be harder for challengers to denounce my right if there is physical evidence of our union." 

"Physical?" Megatron rasped. "Paperwork, you mean? Certification? It'll be a cold day in the Pit when I sign anything proclaiming _you_ my conjunx-"

"Sparklings," Starscream corrected. Megatron sucked air in so sharply he almost choked on it. Starscream pushed himself back upright and slipped off his front, wings rising high and proud. "Three, I think. Your very own little ruling trine." 

Megatron was speechless. "I..." 

"No need to thank me," Starscream smiled, standing to leave. "Conjunxing is a mutually beneficial relationship so I'm sure I'll find plenty ways for you to make it up to me. I won't be in oestrus for another fortnight though, so in the mean time," he paused by the doorway, "I'd recommend taking cold showers. You'll be grateful for taking the advice when the time comes."

Starscream left. 

Megatron refocused on the ceiling above him, frantically trying to remember what he could of Vosian conjunxual law, and if such a thing as divorce was possible. 

It wasn't. 


End file.
